


We Are Friends, Aren't We?

by suchdainties



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 01:25:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchdainties/pseuds/suchdainties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison's first visit to Lydia's bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Friends, Aren't We?

There was perfume on Allison’s tongue. She grimaced, scraping it against her teeth to lose the taste. It stewed acrid in her mouth but divine in the air—rose and spice and musk. She closed her eyes and inhaled.

 

* * *

 

Lydia’s Martin’s room was a fantasy in sensation. Allison typically kept her hands to her chest on that first tour, the serial best friends and their patchy Ikea sanctuaries too distant to touch. But when Lydia breezed in, spreading herself on willing sheets with her hair blooming around her, Allison found something to which she wanted to belong. Her fingers coasted along dressers and lampshades, found their way into dishes of jewelry, digging into mounds of gold chain and freshwater pearls.

“I’m giving you the acorn necklace for Friday, remember?” Lydia said, supine and mid-text, phone elevated at arm’s length.

“Yeah,” Allison answered, blushing. Her hands carried on, heedless of propriety, alighting on the bottles: pink and mint and sparkling, Lydia’s perfumes. She snatched up the caps and snuffled at the nozzles, hungry for something she hadn’t known she desired. Hungry to press the oils to her neck like a princess, to roll on a damask quilt. Hungry for fair skin and a freckled chest. To lace fingers together and just hold on, without words, a dusk without end and a friend who wouldn’t let go.

  
   


A lock of hair tightened. One manicured finger was enmeshed in the brown, twirling and untwirling the strands with the merest stinging pull.

“You’re so pretty, you know?” Lydia smiled up at her. Usually the word hid barbs. Pretty. The six-letter cue for Allison to duck her head and plan her escape. Instead she felt a warmth spreading, a grin playing at her own lips. Lydia’s kiss came sharp and quick. When Allison chanced to open her eyes again her friend was already by the closet, tossing dresses out with casual abandon. Allison's mouth didn’t close, nor did the hand that tightened around an atomizer, letting out a gentle spray.

 

* * *

 

There was perfume on Allison’s tongue, despite her scratching and gnawing. Lydia’s scent would only last a few hours but she’d dream of the taste for weeks.


End file.
